


Can I Lay By Your Side?

by sandean_cas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Castiel Whump (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel is Dean Winchester's Everything, Castiel's Tan Trenchcoat (Supernatural), Castiel's Tie (Supernatural), Coda, Crying Dean Winchester, Dead Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester Misses Castiel, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Dean Winchester Whump, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Depressing, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hunter's Funeral (Supernatural), Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Introspective Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Purgatory, Quote: Family Don't End With Blood (Supernatural), Quote: No chick-flick moments. (Supernatural), Sad Ending, Season/Series 12, Song: Lay Me Down (Sam Smith), Suicidal Dean Winchester, Unrequited Love, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21793450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandean_cas/pseuds/sandean_cas
Summary: Carrying the body to the pyre is the hardest thing he’s ever done.Each step makes his bones feel like lead. His muscles protest the act as though his very soul rejects the thought of burning Cass. But he know he has to. If he allows himself to… he’d wait forever. Sam offers to help. But Dean has to do this. He half wonders whether he should keep the trench-coat. For the memories.No.He isn’t coming back.His eyes drift of their own volition to the charred wing marks in the mud. The mud. Cass had died in the dirt and soon enough the last remnants of himself, his scorched wings, would be either washed away or trampled into nothing. Everyone knows what charred wings mean. But he’d had one last shred of hope. Dean sees it leaving; he lets it float away, it’s useless to him now.Cass would never look at him again. Never hug him or touch him or tease him. They’d never talk again. They’d been fighting, it seems like they’re always fighting.The coat has to burn.ORWhat Dean went through emotionally after Castiel is killed by Lucifer in the season 12 finale
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	Can I Lay By Your Side?

Dean pulls the sheet back, staring down at his friend. His very dead friend.

He’d always thought that one day he’d be brave enough to lay by his side… as more than a friend. Now all he has is emptiness and tears. Worst of all is the drowning feeling he sees as the lifeless body of his friend.

Running a hand down Cass face he feels the things he’d never allowed himself to feel before. The stubble on his face, the texture of his skin. He feels so real… looks so alive. Like he’s asleep; but angels don’t sleep.

Words can’t explain the loss he feels… nor the things that would forever remain unsaid. He’d experienced robbery in its worse form. The decades, the laughs, the words had all been plucked from him. He shuts his eyes but he still sees the light. Not the good kind either, but the light as Cass has died before his eyes. To have such profound relief that Cass had even made it back through the portal and to have it ripped away so abruptly. It’s too much for Dean to bear.

Like a fool, he’d expected to see Cass right back. Maybe sitting on the table in confusion. But no. He’s dead. The kind of dead everyone else is. And he’s never coming back.

Dean gives him one last lingering glance and mutters a soft I love you, foolishly thinking that _that_ will being him back. He looks for a long time, hoping, and only turns away when he feels his lip tremble. If Chuck won’t bring him back then no one can. Dean knows what he has to do. With trembling fingers, he rips the curtains, forming ties. It’s not professional, but it’s better than any old plain white cloth. It has some personality… flare.

Carrying the body to the pyre is the hardest thing he’s ever done.

Each step makes his bones feel like lead. His muscles protest the act as though his very soul rejects the thought of burning Cass. But he know he has to. If he allows himself to… he’d wait forever. Sam offers to help. But Dean has to do this. He half wonders whether he should keep the trench-coat. For the memories.

No.

He isn’t coming back.

His eyes drift of their own volition to the charred wing marks in the mud. _The mud_. Cass had died in the dirt and soon enough the last remnants of himself, his scorched wings, would be either washed away or trampled into nothing. Everyone knows what charred wings mean. But he’d had one last shred of hope. Dean sees it leaving; he lets it float away, it’s useless to him now.

Cass would never look at him again. Never hug him or touch him or tease him. They’d never talk again. They’d been fighting, it seems like they’re always fighting.

The coat has to burn.

What would never leave, though, him are the memories and the hurt that comes with knowing there won’t be anymore.

Should he have reached out? Stopped his idiotic plan in its tracks? Of course he should have.

Here he lies: the angel who’d given it all for them, who’d taught him faith, who’d been so determined to learn from him, the one who always check on him. This is the angel who had taken care of him more times than he could count. The one Dean couldn’t even save.

Dean doesn’t want to be here.

Faintly, he notices Sam and the child in the background, looking on, paying their respects. He hears words coming out of his mouth and he can’t even recognise them.

Lighting the match, he holds onto it a second, peering into the pyre, praying for a twitch, a movement… anything. Nothing. He ignites the pyre. His feet are rooted in place. He’s standing too close to the flames but he can’t care.

The only thing on his mind is: Dean wants to get in, lay by Cass’ side for the first and last time.

He wants to step into the roaring flames, let them swallow him as he acts out his greatest desire. He’d lay there next to Cass and let the fire claim them. They’d all end up in the same place anyway. Almost imperceptibly, his feet slip forward, his eyes lighting up in the glow. He can feel the flames licking closer and closer. The smoke almost chokes him and he feels the ineffable pull, drawing him closer to the only person he could ever care about this way.

Oh God! What is he doing? He feels himself exhale harshly. Is the curtain moving? He almost darts into the flames, wanting to check on Cass. He misses him already.

Something in his brain clicks. A mandatory command he’d always followed: Take care of Sammy.

He exhales. He can’t be selfish enough to check out and leave Sam with the spawn of Satan. He wants to… more than words. Just to leave this wretched world and find some sort of peace. He doesn’t care what the empty is nor does he care about seeing every angel and demon they’d ever killed. It would be just like Purgatory, he thinks, and him and Cass had handled that just fine.

So he stand there numbly and watches as everything he loves – his will to live, his everything, the love of his life –burn to ash.


End file.
